Destiny (Or Something Like It)
by jhoom
Summary: Her life was laid out before her, carefully orchestrated. Decision after decision made for her, she just had to follow the path chosen for her. She had mixed feelings about it, sure, but she'd never found a real reason to fight against it. Until Garrus Vakarian.


It first happened when she was five. Or at least, that's when she first noticed it. She was supposed to be with the other children taking a tour of the ship. All the ship's officers had brought their kids on board for the week, since they were docked for repairs. None of them were older than maybe eight, and it was a special treat to get to look around.

Jane Shepard had never really been one to follow.

She wandered off the first chance she got. Not to be bad or for any real reason other than she was bored. Her father had already shown her around the ship when he'd first been assigned, so she felt exploring on her own might be more fun.

As she made her way to the ship's energy core, her foot got caught in an open panel on the floor. It took her maybe a few minutes of trying to pry it out for her to realize she was stuck. Just as she was about to call for help - something which was embarrassing to no end - a console at the end of the corridor blew up.

Lights flashed and safety systems started putting out the fire. Jane, having been knocked backwards by the blast, just starred in numb shock. Later they would tell her how lucky she was her foot had gotten caught. That she would've been killed.

Things like that happen, though. A bit of luck that keeps you from tragedy. It's just... it happens to her _over and over_ again.

She used to fight against it. The forces in charge of putting her life together for her. The ones that closed doors they didn't want her to open. Literally - doors closed inexplicably if she wasn't meant to go that way. Sometimes they would open. Maybe it was more subtle, like an advertisement popping up or a line in a movie giving her an idea.

It was mostly harmless, until it wasn't. She'd done well in school. Very well. Promising career ahead of her in, well, anything she could possibly want to do. Lots of opportunities before her to study here or travel there or take such and such job. It was so exciting.

Until it wasn't.

Until one by one, each chance dried up as tried to pursue it. Scholarships mysteriously changed acceptance deadlines, internships were transferred to other applicants, new directors took over roles and rescinded offers.

With a sigh, Jane turned to the only field left to her and perhaps the one she wanted least. At 18, she had no choice but to enlist.

The pushes and pulls directing her life continue. It's not until the Blitz hits and she does what she does that she begins to hope it'll be over. Someone or something out there wanted her to do this, to make a difference. She wants to sigh in relief. But then she gets funneled into the charge of one David Anderson and it turns to a sigh of resigned frustration.

They throw around words like hero and Spectre and she just nods along. She follows the scrip because she physically _can't_ get away from it. Attempt after attempt and all she gets is dead ends. It's either the life they've made for her or no life, apparently.

The Reapers, though. She steels herself to face this threat. This seems big enough. If she could just do this, maybe they'll let her go. So she throws herself into it fully, takes advantage of every little nudge she now gets, taking it as a hint for how to beat these motherfuckers.

And it works. For the most part.

* * *

But there's a moment by the Mako, where her turian sniper makes her smile. Something warm flutters in her gut. Shepard wants to pursue that feeling, something she hasn't felt in a while (since it seems romance isn't on the path that's been written for her). But before anything else can happen, an ensign stops by with some requisition requests.

The timing is terrible, surprising, and completely unnecessary. She recognized the interruption for what it was. Garrus Vakarian might be some sort of charming, but was clearly not on the menu. Oh well. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

The small little moments with him keep happening, and though they make her heartbeat flutter, they get re-directed each time. Which is fine, she supposes. She has a mission. Distractions could be dangerous.

* * *

It's not just Garrus, though. She notices the soft way Kaidan will sometimes speak with her or the way Liara's eyes light up fondly. Yet the interruptions keep coming. Kaidan makes to follow her into the elevator, she sees him making his way over. But the damn thing actually glitches and shuts the doors with a loud _thrum_ and she's stuck in it for maybe six minutes before the system reboots and starts working again.

Liara doesn't have much better luck. They're talking in line at the mess when a crewman stumbles. The asari moves fast enough to side step the flying soup, but it hits Shepard directly in the chest. Well, maybe Liara does have the luck. She didn't end up having to go change.

Shepard takes it in stride, like she's tried to take this damn curse of a pre-destined life. She indulges in some flirting, knowing full well that it will go no where.

The only time in all of this that she really, truly gets to make her own choice in all this mess is on Virmire. And she _hates_ it. Not that she for once gets a say in her own life, but that _this_ is where fate abandons her. _This_ is where it doesn't give a shit about the path she takes.

The crew might think she's calm and collected after she orders Kaidan to his death, but she screams in her quarters and smashes everything within reach.

* * *

Maybe she gets lazy, at some point. Careless in her decisions. Bullets that should kill her only slow her down. She knows she can't make a wrong turn (it is _literally_ impossible, she has _tried_ so often just to test the extent of how hedged in she is). It's earned her a reputation over the years for being reckless, but it's hard to take death seriously when you feel like you have some big destiny waiting for you.

Which is maybe why Alchera happens.

Shepard knows. Oh god, does she know. As she falls towards the planet, she knows damn well that she is seconds from death. There's a mix of surprise that this is where her path leads, after everything, and rage, pure unadulterated _rage_ that the forced march of her life heads to her death above some planet in some backwater part of the galaxy doing absolutely fucking _nothing_.

When she wakes up, that rage is still burning in her veins. She remembers not to take things for granted, that she may in fact be able to be more hurt than she previously thought. But the idea that _this_ had to happen to her makes bile rise in the back of her throat.

* * *

The rocket hits Garrus and time freezes. She has an out of body experience where she sees herself running over and calling for help. But really, she's just thinking that maybe she hadn't been allowed to get too attached to him before because he's just going to die here in front of her. Just like Kaidan.

He survives, though, in a way that makes her question if maybe he's also on some path that won't let him go until he's done. And that somehow makes it worse. She's so fucking glad he's alive. And she's so fucking mad that she can't, just _can't_ do anything about the feelings that keep growing inside of her, begging to be let out.

Anger is really her default emotion at this point. Always an undercurrent that keeps propelling her forward. She uses it as a weapon. Her only hope, the only thing that truly keeps her going, is getting this _done_ so that maybe her life can be her own. That she'll be allowed to make mistakes, and she'll be so _happy_ when that happens because they'll be her _own_.

* * *

Garrus is different. She can't quite pin down the specific changes, except that he's more confident and so much more of a badass than on the SR-1 that it gives her chills sometimes. As much as she felt she had a little bit of a crush on him before, now she can't even deny it.

It probably doesn't help he's one of the few people on this boat that she trusts. They spend so much down time together (what little of it is afforded to them) and she obviously takes him on as many ground missions as she can. Her day ends up being about 45% Garrus Vakarian. And Shepard finds she wouldn't mind upping that number. Not at all.

* * *

Shepard goes through the crew one by one, helping them deal with their personal shit so their head will be in the game to go against the Collectors. Plus, it seems only fair. If they're willing to follow her on a suicide mission, she should help make sure they don't have any unfinished business.

With that in mind, she helps Garrus out with Sidonis. Nothing about the whole thing sits right with her - not what he did to Garrus, not what Garrus wants to do in return (hell, she's not even all that thrilled Garrus had been on Omega in the first place, but that's not really her business). When all is said and done and they're back on the Normandy, she breathes a sigh of relief.

In the wake of all that anxiety and tension, she gets to talking to him. With everything behind him, he's so much more at ease with her. The story about his hook-up has a smile tugging at her lips, a cheesy and overtly flirtatious line about to bubble forth. The words are almost ready to tumble out when the console starts beeping wildly.

Garrus looks alarmed at whatever he reads and apologizes as he scrambles to fix it. Shepard waves it off, making a hasty retreat and cursing that goddamned cockblocking console.

* * *

Six months wasted on Earth, sitting on her hands and waiting for hell to break lose. There's not much to do - she works out, hangs out with Vega since she likes him and he's there anyway.

Then there's everything going down in flames around her and she looks for every possible distraction to keep herself from going crazy. And on Menae, she finally realizes what she wants to focus on.

She missed him. Plain and simple. Yes, she missed Liara and Joker and Ashley and the ship and and and. But she knows there was a shadow hanging over her until she knew Garrus was alive. Until he was back on her ship and watching her six.

If it were four years ago, well before any of the stuff with Saren even got a chance to start, things would've been different. She'd have fought against the way everything contrives to keep them apart whenever she tries to start something. She's starting to think it'd be worth it. Relationship or not, it'd at least be worth her piece of mind knowing if it'd work.

But Shepard is, surprise surprise, pulled thing trying to save the galaxy. And she doesn't think she can deal with the extra stress of fighting goddamn fate itself. And maybe she's a little selfish. She needs Garrus, and pursuing something with him right now might just ruin the friendship she's come to rely on.

So... she takes the easy road (perhaps the only easy road left for her) and tries to squash down her growing feelings for the turian sniper.

* * *

It happens so often between them - those unspoken moments full of possibility - that she eventually just thinks that _that's_ Garrus. Charming, witty and flirty.

When she hears Tali make a comment about how she plans on stopping by a dextro-market on their next Citadel run. An offer to get Garrus something special in a sultry voice that Shepard didn't even know the young quarian was capable of. It almost makes _her_ blush.

His mandibles flare slightly and his eyes flicker to Shepard briefly, unreadable. He stumbles over his words as he chokes out a reply, beyond flustered, and within minutes he's making an excuse to go back to the main battery.

Curious.

* * *

Slowly getting over the shock of Alchera, Shepard is back to assuming she's invincible. (At least until all this is done. But one thing at a time.) Maybe she settles into that feeling too much, gets too comfortable, because Liara gets knocked out then Garrus gets hurt pretty badly and she's pretty sure she's got a concussion and Mordin's dead and and and and...

A deep breath as shes tries to keep her anxiety at bay.

Though the mission is determined a success, it leaves a sour taste in her stomach. Starring at her reflection that night, she comes to a decision. The idea of Garrus Vakarian dying on her is just too unbearable. He is worth fighting the powers that be, even if it only means a few stolen moments.

* * *

She corners him in the shuttle after James leaves. She sees a chance, judges she has about two minutes before any interruption could reasonably come up. Throwing caution to the wind, she cups his face in her hands, fingers gently brushing up his mandibles, and pulls him down for a kiss.

It's not really romantic. Just short and chaste and oh god turians don't even kiss, do they, what is she doing-

When she pulls back, she sees the question in his eyes. But he doesn't push her away. The moment shatters as Vega rushes back in, breathlessly saying something about the Primarch needing her immediately. If he finds it odd that they're in each other's space, he doesn't comment.

"We can talk about this later," she promises, lingering slightly before disappearing.

They don't, as it turns out. Shepard's good at knowing how much time before re-directions are going to steer her back on course. She takes each and every one of those opportunities. Their hands brush or sometimes their fingers interlock, just for a moment. Occasionally a caress to a cheek. Shared breathes mingling with shared kisses.

There's an unspoken agreement that there is _something_ going on between them. But with the seconds of each encountering quickly ticking away, they just never get to the talking part.

At least, not until after one particularly hot make-out session. They just dove at each other the moment the doors to the battery closed. Shepard understands turians aren't really into kissing, but Garrus indulges her human tendencies while she allows him to firm grip her waist and run a talon through her hair. It's both been an eternity and not nearly long enough when they break apart at the insistence of his terminal.

It's a message from Joker, insisting he needs to show Shepard something. She just rolls her eyes, checking her appearance in the reflective bulkhead near the door. Offering an apologetic look as she finishes straightening her hair, she's about to leave when she notices Garrus just staring at her with slumped shoulders.

"That seems to happen a lot," he says carefully.

Although she wants to play dumb, she doesn't insult him by doing so. "Yes," she agrees. "It does."

* * *

A dozen failed attempts to explain go nowhere. There's never time, and what time they steal they seem to agree could be spent better. She does finally get a chance, a whispered conversation with him in a ruin of a building in London.

He takes it well.

But it's too late, anyway. They've nearly reached the end, haven't they?

It kills a piece of her to say goodbye to him. Sure, he's heading to the Crucible with her, but there are no guarantees. There never were, but there's only so much left. It's the first time in a long time that they have a full conversation, uninterrupted. And it's just so... intimate. Something they've never had before, never been allowed.

It terrifies her what that could mean.

* * *

She tries to hold her insides in, not even sure how she's still conscious, still standing. She's dying, of that she's certain. Which means she must be at the end.

The Catalyst stands before her, uncaring of the life that's draining out of her. Maybe it's because she's a selfish bastard, but the first question she asks is about herself. "Why me?"

"We made you for this." As if it were obvious.

"We?"

There was the smallest trace of a sneer and she knows that question will never be answered. "We designed you, Jane Shepard, to put the pieces together. To build the Crucible. To put an end to the Reapers."

Her throat is dry. It's not like she didn't _know_ she'd been guided her whole life. But to _hear_ it out loud. She swallows. It doesn't help. "Why?"

"It's been tried so many times before," the child scoffs. "Time after time, they all fall short. Mere chance could not create someone capable enough to do what needs to be done. So we took over for fate and destiny and chance. Made the perfect weapon."

Just a tool, then. Not her own person. It's her worst fears realized. She's broken, and what do you do with a broken tool once it's done its job?

"Why..." her voice breaks slightly. She coughs roughly and tries again. "Garrus..."

"You were meant to stop the Reapers. It was determined that any such... _emotional_ attachments would just serve to keep you from your true purpose. Anyone who might have potentially formed a strong romantic relationship with you was directed away from such an outcome as early as possible."

She closes her eyes and tries not to feel betrayed. "You son of a bitch. You had _no_ right."

"We _made_ you. We had every right."

She opens her eyes to glare at the specter before her. The hostility is mirrored back at her.

"You're no better than the Reapers."

"If we beat them, it matters not." It explains to her many things, and she tries to pay attention. Tries to take it all in so she can truly feel the weight of the decision that hangs before her.

When the choices have all been laid out, it seems to gloat. "Now you see. No being meant to die for the galaxy could be so selfless, would willingly die if an emotional attachment were there holding them back. You nearly risked it all, for some _infatuation_."

And now, at the absurdity that has been her life, she laughs. She's near hysterical. She is moments from her death, and it's just so... ridiculous. "You idiots," she breathes out. "You got it all backwards."

With all the strength she has left, she starts walking. She stops her hobbling as she walks by, just long enough to spit out, "I'm doing this _for_ him, for _every one_ of those 'emotional attachments' you tried to distance me from. _they're_ what make me strong enough to take these last fucking steps."

The Crucible consumes the woman that was Jane Shepard, like it had been her whole life. Slowly chipping away at her even as it built her up. And in the fire of her death, its the image of familiar blue eyes that keeps her calm. That promises her a seat at a bar and a cool drink, and maybe the start of something that's all their own.


End file.
